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him.
"Why not? It worked for me." But in the end the discussion came to nothing.
* * *
When the native men felt themselves insulted, which Proteus got the
impression
happened dangerously often, they were not shy of challenging some of the
Heroes
to fight. The resulting contests if that was really the right word for
them tended to be very one-sided. Fortunately for the diplomatic atmosphere,
no
one was actually killed, and the native men bore no resentment. As long as
they
remained alive, they seemed able to convince themselves that their side had
won,
or at least that they had gone down gloriously, succumbing only in the face
of
overwhelming odds.
Meanwhile, some of the younger women had begun eyeing the visitors with frank
interest. Three Heroes besides Jason received offers of marriage, none of
which
were accepted. Local prostitutes had seen their business fall off sharply,
their
bodies less attractive than the images produced by drugs in the minds of
their
former customers.
They stayed in all three days on Lemnos.
"Three days." An oarsman grunted at his task. "Only three days? I thought it
was
longer."
Another shook his head. "Three days was plenty long enough. An unpleasant
spot,
for all that it was full of horny women."
FOUR
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Mysteries
Meleager's head was still sore from the knock sustained in the Lemnian
tavern.
But soreness was the least of his problems. He had not had much to drink, and
had stayed away from the drugs, but his behavior had certainly turned odd.
Jason, as Mel's oldest friend aboard, was seriously concerned. "Let me take a
look at him."
Proteus moved closer, watching over the shoulder of the would-be physician.
External damage was slight. Mel's eyes were open most of the time, and he was
capable of moving about, and sometimes responding to simple questions. He
announced that he was ready to take his turn at rowing, but when he got to
the
bench he only sat there with the long oar idle in his hands.
When encouraged, and reminded of what he was supposed to be doing, he would
pull
steadily for a stroke or two, and then again forget where he was and what he
was
about. He just sat there looking round at his shipmates as if he wondered who
they were. Proteus, on observing this behavior felt an inner chill, and
rubbed
his own head thoughtfully. The swelling had gone down and the spot no longer
hurt, but a vast domain of vital memory remained totally out of his reach.
Still, that crack might have left him much worse off than he was.
Another man, who claimed to have had some training as a physician, pronounced
judgment on the case of Meleager. "I have seen this kind of thing before. He
may
come out of it, or he may not. Time will tell."
Everyone who thought he knew something about medicine took a turn asking
Meleager questions, and peering into his eyes and ears and nostrils; none of
these orifices were bleeding, which the self-appointed experts said was a
hopeful sign. At last a consensus was reached that he should be watched, and
allowed to rest as much as possible. His fate rested in the hands of the
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gods.
A few days later, the Argonauts were beaching their long ship at Samothraki.
This was a rocky island, presenting barren cliffs to the sea around almost
its
whole circumference, but Proteus thought it beautiful in its own unwelcoming
way. And it was certainly much different from their last port of call. Here
there were springs and streams, obviously a good share of rainfall, and a
single
mountain four times as high as the single peak that Lemnos had. Samothraki
was
about ten miles long by seven wide, smoothly shaped with a regular coastline
which offered few natural harbors. A shipmate with a mind for practical
details
told Proteus that exports included fruit and vegetables, especially onions.
More interesting to most of the crew than onions were the mystery rituals for
which Samothraki was also well known. It was to discuss these, and the
invitation issued to all the Argonauts, that Jason called a gathering of the
entire crew beside the ship.
"There is a cave over there" pointing to a spot on the cliff-side that bulked
up
only a few yards from the harbor's mouth "where certain rites, usually
forbidden to visitors and strangers, are to be conducted; and we have been
invited to take part."
Many were interested but everyone was wary. "We have? How did that happen?
Who
knew we were coming here?"
Jason would say only that the invitation had reached him through
intermediaries.
And Idmon casually let it be known that he himself had been an initiate for
some
time.
"What sort of rites are they?" someone asked. "What would be expected of us?"
"There are mysteries of which we must not sing," said Idmon, in a tone that [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]